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fic, Lost: What If It Was True? (Jack/Boone), PG-something, for gwape - Since you're gone my empty arms have nothing left to hold

and your memory cannot keep me warm but it never leaves me cold

words of wisdom

Now Tom said "Mom, wherever there's a cop beatin' a guyWherever a hungry newborn baby cries,Where there's a fight 'gainst the blood and hatred in the airLook for me Mom, I'll be thereWherever there's somebody fightin' for a place to stand or a decent job or a helpin' handWherever somebody's strugglin' to be free, look in their eyes Mom you'll see me."

The highway is alive tonight, but nobody's kiddin' nobody about where it goesI'm sittin' downhere in the campfire light, with the Ghost of ol' Tom Joad

Title: What If It Was True?Rating: PG-somethingPairing: Jack/BooneWords: 2802Summary: He takes all the information in, breathes out, shakes his head and says that at least he’s alive. His throat hurts as he speaks, but Jack nods and Boone can’t help thinking he seems relieved.Spoilers: AU from Do No Harm.Disclaimer: pff, not mine. See what happens.A/N: for gwape, who wanted healing and Jack/Boone. Obviously, seeing the pairing, it got completely out of hand. Using for lostpicksix#31, pillow talk, and entering for lostfichallenge#93, your favorite character. Clearly, it's completely AU.

As he comes to his senses, everything hurts. His limbs hurt, his body hurts, his eyes hurt even if he hasn’t opened them yet; it wouldn’t be that wrong to think that consciousness hurts. Raising his eyelids is enough of an effort and he’s thankful that there isn’t any sunlight forcing him to close them again. It’s definitely night.

What he sees first, his head turned on the right side, is that sort of drawer where Jack keeps the meds; he’s at the caves, which pretty much coincides with everything that he remembers up to… up to when, well, that’s a question. He remembers the plane and the radio and falling and then, well, it’s a blur. He has some vague memory of Jack talking to him and he thinks he has told about the hatch and asked for Shannon, but he couldn’t say. Actually, now that he thinks about it, his left leg is aching more than the rest, and it’s not like the rest doesn’t ache. Pretty much the contrary. He tries to lift his right hand; pain jolts through his arm and he groans in frustration, his throat so sore that it comes out way weaker than he had meant; suddenly there’s a noise on his right and suddenly Charlie is shouting for Jack and saying that he woke up. He doesn’t even have the time to register what happens because then suddenly at least three people get into the tent more or less at the same time. Sun is at his feet, Charlie stands in the rear keeping Shannon from getting closer and Jack’s hands are all over his face, turning it and looking at his pupils and asking too many questions for Boone to answer. The only thing he can say is that he feels like shit and when Sun starts touching his leg following Jack’s instructions he almost screams; thankfully it’s over in a short while and then he realizes that Jack is the only one in the tent. He completely missed the moment when the others left.

“Sorry for all the fuss,” Jack says as he sits next to the stretcher where he’s lying. “I just needed to check you were back with us for good. It was a close call.”

Boone tries to nod and everything aches all over again. He winces and Jack shakes his head.

“We ran out of painkillers.”

“What… how…” he croaks, seemingly unable to form a complete sentence, but it looks like Jack understood what he meant.

“Locke said you fell off a cliff, but while me and Sun were setting the leg I saw it was crushed, so I changed treatment and looks like it worked. But you were touch and go for a while. And if you want to know how much you were out, it’s been five days.”

He can feel his own eyes widen and Jack stands up and goes to check his leg again.

“And well, it took twelve hours to get you out of the critical phase so I wouldn’t be too worried. You want some water, maybe?”

He nods, not even trying to sit up and letting Jack take his shoulders and gently hoist him up before a plastic bottle is brought to his lips and he takes a sip.

--

He asks to be left alone at least until morning, he doesn’t think he can face Shannon until he’s able to speak like a human being again; meanwhile, he’s informed that it’s more or less two in the night, that his left leg will take weeks to heal and it isn’t even sure that it will heal properly, that one of his lungs fell, that he will probably have more than a problem breathing for an awful lot of time and that he can only hope that the scar on his forehead is of the kind that doesn’t leave traces. He takes all the information in, breathes out, shakes his head and says that at least he’s alive. His throat hurts as he speaks, but Jack nods and Boone can’t help thinking he seems relieved.

--

In the next five days, his stretcher ends up being moved in Jack’s cave ‘in case complications arise; he doesn’t object, also because he has this idea that it’ll be a long time before he can even get up. At least his throat doesn’t hurt anymore if he tries to talk.

Shannon comes every day, when he’s not out, and the first time he sees her he thinks that he has clearly died and gone to some place which resembles heaven since he really couldn’t imagine Shannon breaking down crying in front of him as she clutches his shoulders. Hugging is definitely out of the question, at least until he has forty fresh stitches in his chest. Then again, in heaven he probably wouldn’t have had to endure forty stitches.

He doesn’t see much of the others, apart from her and Jack; Charlie drops by to bring water and sometimes he stays there and cracks a couple of jokes, Sawyer comes once and says that Boone owes him a good deal of painkillers even if the tone suggests that he doesn’t want them back, Kate is more or less around but he figured it went in a package deal with staying in Jack’s cave and that’s it. Locke doesn’t come once and he doesn’t know if he should be thankful or not.

The point is, he usually dozes off during the day and is awake at night. Which he figures is pretty normal in his situation, except that whenever he’s awake at night Jack is usually doing something else around there and after he has been up the whole day. It takes him three days to actually ask him why the hell doesn’t he lay down if not for a couple of hours and the answer is I’m kind of insomniac.

Boone thinks that he understands why Jack is always stressed out.

--

For the first three or four days he pretends he isn’t watching whatever inventory of the meds Jack is doing and Jack pretends that he doesn’t know he’s being watched; on the fourth or fifth he decides that it’s enough.

“Don’t you ever want to just lay down?”

“Well, if I can’t sleep I guess I’ll just do what I can’t during the day. No big deal.”

Boone just shakes his head. He’s not the doctor here and he figures he doesn’t have to be the one to remind Jack that he’ll just faint one of these days if he keeps on like this.

“At least don’t work. Don’t you have enough during the day?”

Jack just shrugs and closes the drawer where he keeps the gauze.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he sits down on his own cot, and Boone figures that he’ll pretend not to have noticed the abrupt change of topic.

“Like a plane fell on me last week, I guess. But better than five days ago, or whenever it was.”

“Good.”

“When do you think I could try to stand up?”

“Not before two weeks. Sorry, but it’s already a miracle that the leg is holding itself together and if it got fractured again it’d be…”

“He surely was walking just fine. But why the hell didn’t you get down of that plane?”

Boone looks at the blue quilt draped over his legs. He almost never watches what’s underneath. He doesn’t know why are they having this conversation after a week and a half, he had thought they’d have it sooner than that, but it isn’t like he wants to have it at all. He knows it’s necessary, though.

“I found a radio. I thought I could call for rescue and… anyway, someone answered but it said they were 815 survivors, too.”

Jack nods and doesn’t say anything; Boone isn’t sure he wants him to say something. He opens his mouth a couple of times, then shakes his head and when he squeezes Boone’s hand, Boone doesn’t do a thing to stop him. If only, he hopes he doesn’t let go for a while.

--

They mostly talk during the night, when Jack doesn’t sleep and Boone can’t because he still isn’t back to a sane sleeping pattern; they don’t discuss Locke anymore after that one time and Boone is awfully glad for it; it’s not like he doesn’t think about that day all the time. Well, all the time he isn’t talking with Jack. The two weeks become three and a half and so he’s always stuck there; he doesn’t even mind that much, to be honest. The island subject is exhausted quickly, or maybe it just isn’t the case; that’s when the subject becomes random and he learns that Jack’s favorite movie is Casablanca, that he hates spicy food and that he can play the piano. Jack, in turns, learns that apart from the current situation what is making him mostly depressed is that he lost this year’s presidential elections, that he sure as hell hopes that if they ever get rescued Bush is not the president and that he’d really like to know how the fuck did Watership Down end.

The morning after, Sawyer’s (or well, Boone’s) copy lies next to him and no one is around.

Two hours after he wakes up, Sawyer comes, winks at him and says that he still has to finish it too, so it’d be great if Boone could lend it back.

“Couldn’t you finish it before doing this act of charity?” he asks, and Sawyer rolls his eyes.

“Saint Jack wasn’t gonna hear any excuses,” he answers, and then he gets out.

--

“You didn’t have to.”

“Well, he needs someone to put him in his place sometimes.”

“Yeah, but… really, thanks.”

“No need. Wasn’t it yours to begin with?”

“Fuck, just let me forget about it already.”

“You know, you’re talking more lately.”

“Is that a good sign or a bad one?”

“I’d say good. How does that leg feel?”

“If I try to move it I see stars.”

“Well, good. I’d be worried if it was the contrary.”

--

Kate suddenly doesn’t drop by as often and sometimes he catches her looking at him in a manner which isn’t exactly friendly. Once he tries to talk to her, but she cuts it short and gets out of the cave. He doesn’t have an idea why; fuck, he barely talked to her before the accident, it’s not like they have a grudge or something. He asks Jack if he has an idea of the reason even if he knows he shouldn’t.

“Did she? I don’t know why. I really don’t. I mean, I told her I wasn’t going to head to the beach for a few days because I need to check how are things going with you for a while since it’s been three weeks and all and… I don’t know really.”

Boone takes it for what it is. He asks Shannon, too, the next day, and when she just rolls her eyes and looks at him like he’s completely stupid, he feels thankful for small favors. The concerned expression had become scary after those few days during which it was refreshing.

“She thinks that Jack has the hots for you, idiot.”

“What? Did she tell someone?”

“Well, not really telling, but she said something of that sort to Claire who told Charlie who probably exaggerated it, then Charlie told Hurley who did the same thing and that’s what Tracy told me.”

She rolls her eyes again and shakes her head. She’s about to say something but then she says that if he didn’t get it then she won’t be the one to explain it and Boone figures that he really is an idiot if it’s so obvious and he doesn’t get it.

Or maybe being nearly dead didn’t increase his perceptions, in that sense. The idea of Jack liking him that way is somewhat ludicrous, but if it was true… he shakes his head and doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t give a damn and he doesn’t need to get delusional now.

--

The first day he stands up, he has an arm around Jack’s shoulders and it hurts and he barely can take a couple of steps before collapsing, but he notices how Jack’s other hand is firm on his waist and how concerned he looks. Butterflies flutter inside his stomach and he wonders if what Shannon said is making him mistake concern for something else.

--

Sayid makes him crutches and he practices in Jack’s cave; it happens one day when he’s standing against a tree outside just because he likes to be out and he doesn’t exactly feel like moving. It was his target to reach for the day, but he hadn’t exactly thought about how to get back and used all of his force of will for the first part of the trip.

“Hey.”

“Hey. How was that, ten feet?”

“I don’t think so, but still more than yesterday. Everything okay at the beach?”

Jack suddenly blushes and Boone raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Really?”

“Pretty much. There’s some stupid gossip going on but it’ll wear out. People need to talk about something.”

Jack raises his eyes and looks at him, careful to keep his expression neutral. “It might. And how would you know?”

“Tracy told Shannon.”

“Right. Tracy told… yeah. I should have imagined… well, I’m sorry. Really. It’s just gossip and Kate should realize that I have some duties and…”

“Is it true?” he asks, his voice suddenly trembling. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. Surely he wouldn’t have dared asking before the accident and before living in Jack’s cave for a month.

“What…? It’s… well, what if it was?” Jack’s voice is strangely low, like he can’t believe he’s actually asking it, and Boone freezes. It can’t be, not before and sure as hell not now, but…

“I’d very much like to know,” he answers, his voice even lower than Jack’s, and his whole frame shakes as his lips when Jack comes closer and brings a hand to his face and kisses him slowly.

The crutches fall to the ground and Boone is suddenly very happy to appreciate how strong exactly are Jack’s arms as they keep him up.

--

His back hurts as he lies on the ground, the quilt spread beneath them, but it’s not like there are two beds or even one where they would fit, considering that he’s injured, too, and it isn’t like that cot he slept on was comfortable anyway.

He woke up in the middle of the night or something, and opened his eyes to find Jack staring at him, a hand on his hip, touching it without too much pressure. His leg hurts as hell, but he doesn’t exactly mind.

“Still insomniac?”

“You won’t cure me of that so easily. It’s been twenty years since I started it, you know.”

“Who knows. It took me two days to get you to at least lie down.”

“You have a point. But it’s not like you’re sleeping either.”

“I was until a second ago, and I have a reason for fucked up sleeping patterns. But since we’re both awake, I’d say that we… take advantage of it?”

“Why, you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. You know, sometimes it’s just overrated.”

He brings Jack’s head down and kisses him firmly, sighing as soft, thin lips open under his and a hand covers his scarred cheek; he curses his state which won’t allow him to do much more than this, but for now it’ll be enough. He can’t even stay angry for much, since maybe if it hadn’t happened then this wouldn’t have happened, either; and well, he’s not dead, even if sometimes he feels like this is all a dream and he’ll wake up to the nothingness he always thought would be after going for good. He shakes his head and forgets it; he’s sure there’ll be time to catch up, and meanwhile he’ll be glad to swallow Jack’s moans and taste the life on his lips.

Oh yay, you wrote more Jack/Boone, and you let Boone live and let them be pretty happy and ... Yay! *happy sigh* This was great (and oh, can we pretend this is what happened?). I loved the Shannon part, too. I miss them so much. Great work! :D

Thanks so much! Yeah, she finally got started again. Now if she just let me finish the things I started, but one at a time I guess. And yeah, happily ever after indeed, and what you said about Jack. Thanks again! ♥

I like the time period you chose for this story. It would be easy to skip ahead to after the recovery to find your happy ending, but you found it right here in the process itself--in a believable way, but without making the story too heavy. Thanks for sharing this. :)

Oh, my pleasure! Thanks so much for the lovely feedback and well, it's kind of my favorite period to set things in. It's way less complicated. I'm so happy to hear that the whole recovery thing was believable. I just don't believe in skipping, or maybe I just want to torture characters. ;) Thanks so much again! ♥

Wow -- I almost never read Jack OR Boone (let alone Jack/Boone), but this was so fantastic I'm glad I did!! I love, love, love the dialogue, and the progression and development that unfold through the little, scattered moments. Great stuff! :D

Heeee, Boone is always good stuff. ;) *is biased* Seriously, thanks so much for the lovely comment and for giving it a shot even if it isn't your usual thing! I just love that pairing insanely. Thanks again, I'm really happy that you liked it (and the dialogue, since I always think I make people talk too much. ;) ) ♥

This is so sweet! It's nice to see a Jack fic with a happy ending, and this really is perfect. Shannon was hilarious--I miss the good ol' island grapevine--and the ending was oh-so-lovely. Wonderful work!

(in lieu of a Jack/Boone icon I have Jack/Sayid; I hope you don't mind. ;D)

Thanks so much! And believe me, when I write them it's usually angst and I really wanted to go with happy for once. And eh, I miss Shannon so much. She was such fun, what a waste. Thank you, glad you liked it!

Awwww, this was sweet. I love the part where Boone threw caution to the wind to ask Jack if the gossip was true. I really like the way you always write these two, it kind of tugs at the heart a bit. (okay, end of being sappy)